


Six Feet Under

by Salamander_85



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22467694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salamander_85/pseuds/Salamander_85
Summary: Sansa and Jon throw a dinner party.This is a companion piece wholly inspired by Kit_Kat21's workSkeletons- If you have not read that fic, please do.I couldn't stop thinking about that story, and I very much wanted to know more about that evening and the days that followed. Kit_Kat21 is a wonderful Jonsa writer, and a treasure to this fandom.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 258
Kudos: 176





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Skeletons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14503569) by [Kit_Kat21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_Kat21/pseuds/Kit_Kat21). 



-SANSA-

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the captain has turned on the seat belt light. We ask that all passengers please return to your seat and fasten your seat belt. Tray tables should be closed and seats moved back to their upright position. All personal items must now be stowed and safely secured below the seat in front of you, or in the overhead compartment. If you need assistance please press the call button and an attendant will be with you shortly. Our estimated time of arrival at Oldtown International is 3:05pm. Thank you.”

Sansa Stark let out a deep sigh as she leaned back into her seat. Glancing out the window, she took in the pale blue sky and watched the thick wall of clouds pass below them. From this distance, high above the ground, one could almost forget the rain that had rolled in the night before.

“You’re being a chickenshit Sansa,” she whispered softly to no one as she shrugged on a navy cardigan. Reaching for her hairbrush and tie, she set to taming her hair. Brushing and braiding her hair had always helped settle her mind. But today, the voice in her head wouldn’t quiet and her stomach lurched with guilt. She knew she shouldn’t be here on this plane; should not have left like she had. Sensible, logical Sansa knew her actions were a touch dramatic; others might say she was overreacting. But she couldn’t bring herself to be reasonable. To listen, to understand, and ultimately, to forgive.

_You have the right to be angry. You didn’t ask to be humiliated._ _He should have told you_. She just wanted to forget the past eighteen hours, but the voice wouldn’t sleep. Her thoughts were on an endless, repetitive loop in her head. She was exhausted. _He has the right to be angry. You should have told him._

A familiar swoop fluttered through her stomach. Realizing the plane was beginning its descent back down to the world below, she looked quickly around her space to make sure she had done as the flight attendant requested. Sansa traded her hairbrush for her phone, set her bag down by her feet, and decided the remaining flight time would be best spent texting her family. _They’ll worry less if you let them know where you’ve gone. Tell them_ _something vague and hope they don’t assume the worst_. _Tell them you’ll be back soon._

**MUM**

Sat. 3:45pm from Catelyn Stark

Reminder to all my kids and their plus ones that dinner on Monday night will be at 6:30. Not 5:30. You’re welcome to come early, but you will not be fed until 6:30. See you then. Love Always, Mum.

You replied Sun. 4:05pm

Hey Mum!

I’m sorry but I’m going to miss dinner tomorrow night.

I’ve taken a last minute trip out of town.

Talk soon. Love you!

**Group text: Robb, Arya, Bran, Rickon**

Sun 4:08pm

 **Sansa:** fyi, Rickon has been promoted to favorite sibling status. I’ve decided to take a quick trip to visit a friend.

Have a good week siblings.

**JON**

Fri. 5:20pm from Jon

Hey Love, do you need anything before I head home?

You replied Fri. 5:27pm

I can’t think of anything.

See you soon.

I love you, MUAH!

You replied Sun. 4:10pm

I’m not lost, or kidnapped, or dead.

I just need some time and space.

I’m sorry.

Sansa stared at her message to Jon. _This is ridiculous Sansa. Running away is childish and solves nothing. Talk to him and fix this._ The voice in her head was at war with her heart. Because right now, her heart only felt pain. Heartbreak mixed with moments of disappointment and anger. White, hot anger. _You have the right to be angry. You didn’t ask to be humiliated._ _He should have told you_.

Just as quickly, the guilt returned. _Who just leaves without saying goodbye? A coward, that’s who. You didn’t even have the courtesy to leave a note. Stop acting like a silly, little girl._

Closing her eyes, Sansa took another deep breath, and willed the voices in her head to be silent. She’d made her decision. Go visit Shae, take a few days to be angry and sulk, and then, figure out how to fix this. All she wanted was a few short days to indulge in this pity party, and then she’d go home and be an adult.

* * *

-JON-

It was nearly noon when Jon returned to their flat. He’d gone for a long run to clear his head and figure out the best way to speak the words he wanted to say. The fresh air and exercise had helped him organize his thoughts, but utterly failed to improve his mood or relieve the tension that had settled in his shoulders. Now, he was just exhausted and unhappy. It certainly didn’t help that while on his run, his attention kept being drawn to the many couples walking, jogging, or playing with their dogs- happy couples enjoying a sunny Sunday morning with the person they loved. _I would have rather spent my morning with the person I love_ Jon grumped to himself. But the bedroom door was still locked, and his person was still ignoring him.

“Sansa, I’m back from my run.” Jon called out. “I’m going to grab a quick shower, but love, we need to talk. I want to have this conversation face to face.” He waited an extra minute, hoping for something, anything to indicate that she had heard him. The only response was silence. He sighed and quietly headed down the hall. _Shower, coffee, and then I’ll start talking. We’ll have this conversation through a door if we must._ If he could just convince her to unlock that damn door. 

Peeling off his running clothes, Jon was grateful she had stocked the guest bathroom with spare towels and toiletries. Being locked out of their bedroom also meant being locked out of their bathroom. He started the shower and waited for the water to warm. It didn’t take long. Stepping in, Jon just stood there under, eyes closed and let the water and steam wash over him. How he wished the water would just wash away the past eighteen hours. _Shower, coffee, talk_. 

As he scrubbed his body and shampooed his hair, his thoughts wandered back to the evening prior. It had been a small-scale disaster. What was supposed to be a fun night with their friends and family had instantly turned awkward and painful. He should have known someone would eventually say something. More specifically, he should have known Theon would eventually say something. It had been a year and Jon naively thought he had buried that truth. _Only Theon would joke about the one thing I had hoped to never speak of. Why the fuck did I ever tell him?_

Feeling no need to indulge in a lengthy shower, he quickly rinsed his hair and shut the water off. Reaching for a towel, he realized he needed clean clothes. Clothes that lived in a closet in a bedroom behind a locked door. Jon groaned in frustration. She wasn’t wrong to be hurt, but he needed for her to listen. Listen to him. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he flicked off the fan and light and headed back towards their bedroom.

“Sans, I need some clothes. I can sit out here in a towel, but I’d rather not. Please unlock the door.” Jon gently knocked before dropping his hand down to test the handle. He was surprised when the door swung open. _Hmm…_ _how long has it been unlocked?_

Hesitating, he peered into the room and switched the light on. _Empty._ _Is she in the bathroom? No, the light is off and the door open._ Going straight to their closet, he chose a pair of gray jeans and a white t-shirt. He dressed quickly, shut off the light and headed towards the kitchen with a small smile on his face. _Sansa. Coffee. Talk._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am new to the Fan Fic community and new to the Jonsa Fandom. I've never written fan fic in my life, so please let me know if there are gross grammatical errors or misspellings. I am open to feedback on the story.
> 
> Kit_Kat21, I'm not sure what the rules are for writing stories based off another authors fic, but if I've overstepped in any way, please let me know.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Kit_Kat21 for your words of encouragement and your permission to continue writing this story. 
> 
> Six Feet Under is about the dinner party. The before and after of Skeletons. There will be multiple POV's, and I'm certain my characterization/tone will differ from the original.

_18 hours prior…_

-THEON-

Theon Greyjoy was two whiskeys and two beers in, and he’d only started drinking forty minutes prior.

Not only had it had been a long week at work, but he’d suffered through a terribly unpleasant phone conversation with his father that morning.

Dear old Dad had gone on and on about the latest scandal involving Prime Minister Robert Baratheon- something about debt, illegitimate children, and who knows what else. _If only I, Balon Greyjoy, had run against him in the last election_ , his father opined. _Then perhaps the country might have been spared all this nonsense._ Theon rolled his eyes at that. His father moved on to a story involving one of his crazy uncles. Mentions of money and tips and trading. At that point, Theon was fairly certain the less he knew the better. Just in case. And, finally his father had ended with his usual harangue about what a son owes a father. About family and responsibility. About loyalty.

With every passing phone call, Theon became increasingly more confident that moving to the North to work for Ned Stark had been the single best decision he's made since he turned eighteen.

But that was earlier, and now… now, Theon was eager to put his bad week in the past. Tonight he was with his friends. At Jon and Sansa's.

The couple, well mostly Sansa, are hosting a dinner party. They had recently purchased a new flat to call home, and had moved in just a few weeks prior. Tonight was a thank you to the friends and family who helped them settle in. Sansa insisted there were more things to be done- painted walls and more plants on the balcony …Theon couldn’t quite remember. But he knew it would look great. He was happy for them; and he was always up for a night in with his friends. Good food. Friends. And of course fun. And by fun, he meant booze. There was going to be nothing unpleasant tonight.

He needed to take a piss and grab a bottle of water- to be well, responsible- so he excused himself from the conversation on the balcony and made his way inside. After seeing to both of his needs, he noticed most of the guests had come back indoors and gathered together in small groups to converse. The living room had been rearranged to accommodate Sansa’s large dining table. There were flowers and pretty plates. _Bold choice to go with lit candles Sans._ It was going to be a tight squeeze to fit everyone around it, but he was sure she would make it work. 

Not wanting to rudely interrupt any particular conversation, he strolled over to the hostess of the evening, and draped an arm around her shoulder.

“Your home is beautiful Sans. You and Jon have done a terrific job.” 

“Thank you Theon,” Sansa gifted him an affectionate smile. “Did Jon give you the grand tour?”

There really wasn’t much to see. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a chef’s kitchen, a large living space, and a balcony with a killer view. Their new flat had plenty of space and Theon could see she was proud of her and Jon’s work to create a cozy home. 

“He did, he did,” he chuckled. Lowering his voice, he continued on in a tone that spoke of dark secrets and evil plots. “So my darling, what is the plan for the second bedroom? Study, nursery…sex dungeon?”

Sansa flushed bright red, laughing at Theon’s last suggestion. “No! No babies, and certainly not a sex dungeon!” She turned towards him and grasped his shoulders, one hand per shoulder, “Unlike you, my friend, Jon is not a pervert.” She added a dramatic eye roll and shook her head to emphasize the absurdity of such an idea.

Theon smirked and pulled her into a hug. “Sansa… my sweet, sweet Sansa. Your words- they wound me! You’re wrong though. I know for a fact that your Mr. Broody is most definitely a pervert.” 

He paused… pushed her away from his hug- and then brushed a stray strand of hair that had caught on her lip gloss. Leaning forward, he whispered into her ear, “…Though perhaps that’s your sort of thing as well.”

Sansa flinched and narrowed her eyes, but Theon was momentarily lost to his thoughts. Just as quickly, he returned his attention to her. His pale green eyes went wide as if he finally found the answer to some question he’d been asking himself.

“Is that why you invited them tonight?” He nodded towards the two women currently engaged in conversation with Jon and Jon’s friend, Tormund. Sansa followed his gaze towards Ygritte and Val. She scrunched her eyebrows, unsure what he meant.

Undeterred, Theon once more lowered his voice, and this time, he grasped her face with both hands and stared directly into her eyes.

“Sansa, dear…” he gently whispered in a most serious tone, “…are you and Jon planning a ménage a trois?”

Delighted by such a wicked thought Theon couldn’t help but smirk and arch an eyebrow. “Tell me, which one have you picked to seduce? The blonde or the red head. Jon clearly prefers red heads, but the blonde strikes me as more your type. To be fair, Jon should let you choose. It’s not like he hasn’t…” he halted. Before he could say any more, Sansa had pulled away from his hands.

“It’s not like he hasn’t _what_ , Theon?” Sansa urged him to continue on. But now, there was no sparkling eyes or teasing laugh or even an affectionate smile. 

* * *

_Wait, does she not know?_

Theon blinked several times and tried to rewind his words. “Umm… it’s nothing. Really. I mean, I find it all oddly amusing... you... them- you three here in the same room, but obviously, it’s still too early for dirty Theon jokes. It’s your dinner party- of course you can invite whomever you wish. By the way, you look beautiful tonight darling. That’s a lovely dress. Is it new? I think I could use a bottle of water…can I get you a drink?”

“Theon, stop!” Sansa interrupted his babbling and grasped his wrist to thwart his attempt to walk away.

Keeping her focus on him, she raised her voice and asked loudly, too loudly. “Jon, why would Theon joke about Ygritte, Val, and I being in the same room?”

She might have directed her question to Jon, but she kept her beautiful blue eyes locked with his, her face full of confusion. He knew his eyes would betray the truth or falsity of Jon’s answer. He knew he couldn’t hide it, not from her.

_Shit. Fucking Shit._ He had opened his big mouth. And now he could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on him. Staring at him and Sansa. He wanted to disappear. He didn’t dare look anywhere else, certain he’d see anger and disappointment on the faces of his friends.

_Fuck._ _I’m so_ s _orry Sansa._ _Forgive me._ He hoped she could read the apology in his eyes.

Jon said nothing, not quite sure what she had meant by the question. “Jon?” Sansa asked again. The room grew quiet.

_Really Jon? Your silence isn’t helping, mate. You know what she’s asking. Coward._

Theon continued to hold her gaze, watching her brain begin to piece together a larger theory. His words, Jon’s silence, and the growing tension. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, he could see the confusion was gone.

“Excuse me, I need to check the chicken,” she muttered before walking out.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your response to Chapter 1.
> 
> I am new to the Fan Fic community and new to the Jonsa Fandom. I've never written fan fic in my life, so please let me know if there are gross grammatical errors or misspellings. I am open to feedback on the story.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be minor details that vary from _Skeletons _. I highly suggest re-reading that fic either before or after this chapter.__
> 
> __  
>  The great thing about dinner parties are all the guests.  
>   
>   
> _ _

-TALISA-

“Would either of you know what Theon might have said to upset your sister?” Talisa asked quietly.

She looked to her fiancée and future sister-in-law for an explanation. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Jon excuse himself to follow Sansa to the kitchen.

Robb Stark appeared to be caught in a staring contest with his sister, Arya. Neither sibling willing to be the first to surrender. But it was clear- both knew _something_ about why the mood of the room had suddenly turned awkward and thrummed with unexplained tension. Across the room, Theon looked doleful.

By now, everyone could hear the low murmur of Jon’s voice as he tried to ascertain exactly what Theon had said. They could hear Sansa’s voice noticeably rise when she asked “When?” They could hear the voices fade as the couple moved from the kitchen towards their bedroom. They could hear Jon knocking, “Sansa, please…”

Robb took a long, slow sip of his beer and then turned to glare at Theon. Arya looked at her feet and sighed; her boyfriend, Gendry, looked like he wished he could be anywhere else.

“They had sex,” Arya finally said in a low voice, her eyes darting to Val and Ygritte. “I guess Sansa didn’t know. And now she does.”

“Together,” Robb added quickly.

Talisa frowned in confusion, then raised an eyebrow.

She mouthed silently, “Threesome?”

Robb nodded yes.

* * *

-JEYNE-

Jeyne stared long and hard at Ygritte and Val. _They should leave._ _But it’s not my home nor my dinner party. They shouldn’t need to be asked._

Sansa Stark and Jeyne Poole had been best friends when they were children. It had been four years since they had finished school and moved on to university. While Jeyne was happy to stay close to home in Wintertown, Sansa always planned to go south to King’s Landing. When it was time for Sansa to leave, she and Jeyne hugged and cried. They promised to stay in touch and be best friends for life. It was no surprise that they slowly drifted apart. Time and distance and separate lives. It was almost inevitable.

Then one day two years ago, Theon sailed back into town and into Jeyne’s life. And with Theon came Robb Stark and Jon Snow. 10 months later, Sansa returned to the North, and Jeyne was grateful for her group of close friends. She knew that they were going to build their lives and community together. She dreamed about the milestones they might share with each other. Dreams of weddings and babies. Barbecues and family football matches.

Jeyne didn’t know Ygritte and Val well, but she knew both women were Jon’s friends from his time at university. She was aware Sansa had made a genuine attempt at friendship. After tonight that would certainly change. Sansa was hurt, and Jeyne was confident she knew the exact thoughts running through her friend’s mind. She doubted anyone here truly understood the depths of Sansa’s emotional well. While Sansa had always had a talent for hiding her true feelings from others, she never did so with her best friend. Jon didn’t understand. Jeyne could plainly see that. He would know soon- and the sooner Ygritte and Val left, the better it would be for him.

“Should I apologize?” Theon whispered in her ear.

“To whom?” she replied. 

Theon nodded towards Jon and the two women who were responsible for hurting her friend. Jeyne didn’t know what they had done or what Theon had said to Sansa. But she could guess. A wild guess. It wasn’t really that hard. She had always had her suspicions.

She noticed Jon had returned to the main room to resume his hosting duties. He looked miserable and unsure of what to say or do next. She watched as Ygritte went up to him to ask after Sansa. _Jon, ask them to leave._ He didn’t.

Turning towards her boyfriend, she grabbed his hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “No, not right now. Come, help me in the kitchen.”

* * *

-SAM-

Sam glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes had passed and he wondered how much longer before they would eat. Everyone was chatting- politely avoiding Jon and trying to ignore Sansa’s continued absence. He felt for his friend and he understood Sansa was upset, but seven hells, was he hungry. He looked over and saw Gilly deep in conversation with Val. Sam smiled and was grateful for his wife’s sweet spirit. 

Sam knew Jon was no longer in the mood to be social and wanted to avoid half the people in the room. So Sam let him brood while he chatted with Jon and Ed about his week.

“I got an email yesterday asking that I come in for a second interview. I’m still in shock that they might offer me the position, but it would be an absolute dream to work there,” Sam shared with a happy grin.

Ed returned the grin, but Sam never knew if Ed meant to be happy or grim. It was difficult to know since Ed always wore the same expression. Sam would just assume Ed was happy for him. Better to be positive than assume the opposite.

Winterfell Preparatory Academy was in need of a new associate Vice Principal, and Sam had applied last month. He was excitedly telling Jon and Ed all he had learned about the school while preparing for his first interview. Not that Jon didn’t already know all there was to know about WPA- the oldest four Starks and one Snow, like their parents and grandparents before them, had all attended and graduated from the prestigious, private academy. Sam knew Rickon, the youngest of the five Stark siblings, was still in school. There was also a family joke Sam had heard on more than one occasion - ‘There must always be a Stark at Winterfell Prep.’ - and Rickon dutifully filled that role.

“Sam,” Jon interrupted his story about WPA’s middle school math team winning first place at the annual Math Leagues tournament in Kings Landing. He saw Jon look at the clock and then at the hall towards the bedroom.

“I don’t know what to do,” Jon admitted.

Sam wasn’t exactly sure what was going on. He, like everyone else, had observed Theon and Sansa chatting before Theon had said something inappropriate. Or what Sam assumed was inappropriate. Vaguely following Sansa’s questions of Jon in the main room before she left, and from what he observed of Jon and the others in the room since then, it was best not to probe or seek clarity. If Jon wanted him to know, he would tell him. Sam could probably guess what might cause Sansa to be so upset, but he also knew it wasn’t really any of his business. Gilly could fill him in later.

Sam followed his friend’s gaze down the hall.

“You love her, and she loves you,” Sam reassured Jon. “I know it seems sort of big right now, but give her time, and then the two of you will sort through what needs to be said. Everything will be fine Jon.”

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The evening continues.

-ARYA- 

Sansa had always striven to be the perfect lady Arya thought to herself.

_Be courteous! Be gracious! Be respectful!_ Her mother’s words rang through her head.

Catelyn Stark never missed an opportunity to instruct her children in the ways to be proper and polite. She taught them to be warm and friendly, and to put others at ease. Arya preferred to leave the lady like charms and graces to those who wanted to be proper. But her sister? Sansa... well, she was her mother’s daughter, and she happily soaked up every lesson. She embraced the opportunity to be a proper lady and play the charming hostess.

It was this knowledge and their shared upbringing that made Arya confident her sister would soon hear their mother’s voice- internally admonishing her behavior- and her sister would act. Sansa would not remain locked in her bedroom much longer. Being away from her party for more than twenty minutes would be rude. And Sansa wasn’t rude. No- her perfectly courteous sister would dry her tears, brush her hair, and then return to host her dinner party with as much grace and enthusiasm as she could fake.

“I apologize for my absence. I imagine everyone is hungry… shall we eat?” Sansa’s soft voice broke through the room.

The conversation around the room slowed… there were smiles- some happy, some weary- but everyone exhaled a small breath of nervous energy. The tension and worry lessened. Now in their place, relief and hope began to buzz.

Arya smiled. Then shot Robb a look of smug victory. _You owe me a beer_. Sansa had returned just like Arya _knew_ she would. Beautiful and gracious as ever.

“Thank you to whoever pulled the chicken from the oven. I would have hated to have to serve burnt chicken,” Sansa lightly laughed. “Jeyne, would you help me set the table? We need to move the flowers and candles and set out the food. Theon, there is a bottle of Dornish Shiraz in that cabinet,” Sansa motioned to a buffet near the table. “I think I would like a glass.”

Jeyne and Theon didn’t hesitate to do as Sansa asked. Everyone else wound down their conversations, gathered their drinks, and made their way to the table. _That table is so fucking big_. When Arya had first seen what Sansa had bought when she stopped by the flat last week, she thought the table a little grand for just her and Jon. But, Sansa had called it a _statement piece_. Whatever that meant. Arya conceded perhaps Sansa had been right. If her sister intended to host parties and game nights, having an extra-large table was probably smart.

Arya glanced over to Jon. Jon, her cousin, who looked so much like herself. They shared the Stark look of grey eyes and dark hair. Ask any stranger and he would say she and Jon were true siblings. Arya loved Jon the same way she loved her own siblings- in her heart she called him brother. She would always think of him as such.

But Jon and Sansa in a relationship? Living together? Planning a future? Yes, technically, they were second cousins, but Jon had grown up with them. He thought of their parents as his own. He was their brother. And yet, somehow, Jon and Sansa had found a way to make it all weird. One year later, Arya still thought it weird.

As if he could feel her gaze, Jon looked over and caught her eyes. Arya could see his uncertainty and weariness. Unsure of what to say or do.

_You should have told her Jon. Did you really think Theon would forget? Idiot._

_Family, Duty, Honor._ Arya inwardly groaned. She could hear her mother’s voice. Dammit. It was only supposed to talk to Sansa. 

“Gendry, switch spots with me,” Arya whispered to her boyfriend. She knew sitting him next to her sister would put Sansa at ease. Surprisingly, Gendry and Sansa got along quite well. At first Arya had been lightly annoyed at their easy friendship, but over the past year, she had come to appreciate that Gendry could relate to her sister in a way that she never had.

Gendry gave her a knowing look and did as she said. Sansa had arranged the chairs to seat two at each end, and five along each side. So at one end sat Gendry and Sansa. On the opposite end, Jon and Talisa. Arya took the seat to Gendry’s right. Next to her were Ed, Val, Gilly and Sam. Robb sat at Talisa’s right, next to Theon. Jeyne, Ygritte, and Tormund filled in the other side. 

Arya watched as Sansa and Jeyne returned with the food and arranged the table. She watched as everyone found their seats and settled in. And then before Sansa or Jon could say anything, Arya took the lead and spoke up. She would do her duty to her sister. She’d call on all her mother’s words of instruction. For Sansa, and for Jon, Arya would try to be proper.

* * *

“Sansa- you made my favorite Mac n’ Cheese!”

Arya eyed the dish full of creamy goodness. Pasta baked with five cheeses, chunks of real bacon, caramelized onion, and jalapenos. She noticed Robb’s favorite stuffed mushrooms were also on the table. Then she spotted Gendry’s preferred cheesy broccoli and rice casserole. It seemed as if Sansa had gone with a menu of family favorites. Roasted asparagus, green beans, and a spinach salad balanced out the heavy comfort foods. Arya wondered what her sister might have thought to make for Talisa. 

Her sister turned to her and gave a sweet smile, proud that Arya had noticed. Arya may not always understand Sansa, but how can one not love a sister who makes them the best damn mac ‘n cheese. She returned the smile.

Leaning forward, Arya picked up her drink, and raised it to toast. “Thank you for inviting us tonight. The food looks and smells phenomenal. And congratulations, Jon… Sansa... on the new home. I look forward to you hosting my future birthdays. I love you …” Arya glanced between the two. “Both of you… I hope you know that. Thank you for this meal Sansa. Cheers!” 

Everyone chimed in their agreement and Arya was satisfied that she had managed to step around the evening’s earlier unpleasantness. She knew Jon and Sansa would need to talk, but later, after dinner was concluded and everyone had gone. Whatever they had to say to each other was between the two of them.

Conversation throughout dinner continued to be light. Arya kept dividing her attention, glancing at Sansa and Jon in between bites of pasta and chicken. Her sister had definitely inherited her mother’s cooking skills. And her hosting skills. Sansa was doing a far better job appearing to enjoy both the meal and company. Jon was chatting with Robb and Talisa. They were talking about wedding dates and venues.

She looked back at Sansa who was conversing with Tormund. _Perhaps you should slow down on the wine sis_ as she watched Sansa pour herself a second glass from the bottle Theon had opened. She heard Sansa ask if he might entertain the table with a story from work. Arya agreed-Tormund was an excellent storyteller.

Tormund owned and operated an outdoor adventure company- “authentic northern adventures and excursions.” His company specialized in tours, provided guides, and rented gear for nearly every outdoor activity that might interest a person. Camping, hiking, rock climbing were on offer throughout the year; hunting and salmon fishing during season. In the summer months, the most popular excursion was the 10-day “Trek beyond the Wall.” Tormund’s best stories always involved customers from the cities south of the Neck or from across the Narrow Sea. Customers wholly unused to the concept of ‘roughing it’. It might be unkind to mock those who don't know better, but here in the comfort of Northerners, no one turned away from an opportunity to laugh at those from the south.

Sansa was being charming and gracious. Friendly and warm. Every inch the perfect hostess. _Mother would be proud of you Sans._

Arya glanced once more around the table. She could see a future with their family and friends. Together. Robb and Talisa married. Jon and Sansa, together, and it finally not being weird. Theon, Jeyne... and in the future, Bran and Rickon and whoever came with them. And all those lovely thoughts made her warm and happy.

Arya leaned over and gave Gendry a light kiss on his cheek. He looked at her in surprise. She rarely offered public affection. 

She just smiled, shrugged, and tipped her wine glass. 

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This.Fucking.Dinner.Party

-SANSA-

“Someone stopped by the pub asking if he could hang a flyer in the window while I was at work on Tuesday. I guess Queenscrown is hosting a music festival at the end of next month,” Ygritte spoke up, loud enough to capture the table’s attention. “The flyer also advertised a Tough Mudder scheduled nearby the same weekend. When I looked online there were still slots available. Would anyone be interested in making a long weekend of it and want to go?”

She paused briefly before glancing around the table- looking at Tormund, Ed, Jon and Theon in particular. “I have always thought it might be fun to do a Tough Mudder, you know… challenge oneself on one of those obstacle courses. Running through the mud would certainly be more fun with friends.” Ygritte flashed her signature quirky smile, the sort that easily charmed those around her. Sansa no longer found it charming. _Will I ever learn?_

“Anyone who doesn’t want to participate could still come and cheer on those of us who do. It’s not like we would be competing seriously… the event being next month doesn’t leave much time to properly train. Still, it could be great fun,” Ygritte continued, “and with the festival, the city should be lively. We could camp near Mole’s Town if you want to keep it cheap.”

Sansa noticed a hesitation- a shy, unnatural uncertainty in Ygritte’s tone. _Why is she still here? Didn’t she say she would leave? Of course she wouldn’t leave Sansa. She is not your friend…not truly. She’s Jon’s friend._ Sansa didn’t want to hear Ygritte’s voice, she didn’t even want to look at her. Ygritte, with her red-hair, and her freckles, and her girl-next-door appeal. She was confident and saucy, and frankly, not the type of woman Sansa would naturally befriend; they had so little in common. But Sansa had tried for Jon. Gods! Didn’t he understand how humiliating it was for her to sit here with the woman- no, women- who he had been intimate with? To listen to Ygritte suggest they go camping? Why hadn’t _he_ asked them to leave? _How could you keep this from me Jon?_

“Climbing the bloody wall wasn’t challenging enough for you, Red?” Tormund teased before filling his plate with more of Robb’s stuffed mushrooms.

The Wall Climb, Sansa knew, was one of those bucket list items for anyone who fancied themselves an outdoors adventurer or adrenaline junkie. 70 years ago, the North decided to fund a complete restoration of one of Westeros’ ancient marvels (scholars still argue about how the legendary structure was originally built), and it has since become a popular tourist attraction. People from all over travel to gaze upon the three hundred mile long fortification of solid ice. At a height of nearly eight hundred feet, historians believe it served as a barrier (no one was sure why) between the North and the lands beyond. Of course, there are those who point to ancient texts and legends. Lore about magic, white walkers, and horrible ice monsters. Of Night Kings, dragons, and the Prince That Was Promised. There are songs about heroes who battled for life against death. But those are just stories, fantastical folk tales of old. Sansa has always loved the romance and tragedy of those tales; she hated how beauty and art demanded both. Today, tourists can visit The Museum at Castle Black; they can imagine the heroes of old and the lives they may have led, and take their pictures of the vast, beautiful landscapes from atop the wall. The truly adventurous and brave forgo the elevators and stairs, and reach the top by registering to climb the ice up the northern face. That mode was not for the beginner or the faint of heart.

“I forgot you did that! I was bummed I wasn’t old enough to climb with Jon when he went. Gendry, we should do that next summer,” Arya joined in, her voice a mixture of awe and envy. Sansa watched Gendry smile at her sister and then shake his head, “My southern blood would literally freeze if I tried that climb; we’ll have to find you a different partner.” Arya looked as if she wanted to argue, but decided against it. _Gendry is good for her._ _He understands Arya’s thirst for life; encourages her wild, carefree nature. Yet, he grounds her. Pushes back on her zanier ideas. Makes sure she doesn’t kill herself._

“What bands are playing at this festival?” Ed asked, swinging back to Ygritte’s original topic. 

Ygritte hesitated, closing her eyes briefly in an attempt to visualize the flyer. “The poster mentioned bands from all over the North, big and small. Lady Mormont, The Black Crows, and The Flayed Men are set to headline the evening concerts. It should be fun if you enjoy that sort of music… rock that is,” she said with a small shrug. “The Flayed Men are one of the best heavy metal bands this side of the Narrow Sea. They’ve been on hiatus for a year or so… I think they’re using this festival as a kick-off for their new tour.”

“When did you do the wall climb?! That’s a truly impressive feat Ygritte.” Sansa was surprised to hear her own voice. Engaging with the woman she had been so steadfastly and politely ignoring. Sansa reached for her water. While she preferred the wine, indulging to much wouldn’t help her racing heart. No, water was safe. A refreshing, quenching distraction. She watched as the lemon wedged itself amidst the ice. _They kept that fucking band name?_

“Oh… it was the same climb that Jon went on, what… five years ago? A group of us- Tormund, Jon, a few others, me….” Ygritte offered in response. Sansa forced herself to look over to the woman she had been avoiding. Ygritte gave her a soft smile, but Sansa could see the unspoken question in her eyes.

“Hmm… Jon probably mentioned it and I just forgot,” Sansa lied easily. O _f course I’d remember if Jon had said you were there._

Sansa shifted her focus to the man sitting to her left. “Tormund- I’m curious… I imagine accomplishing such a feat would be quite the rush. Surely everyone had a few beers to celebrate. Tell me, did Jon’s clothes just magically fall off then too? Did they celebrate by sharing a tent?” Sansa gave a slight nod of her head and tilt of her glass towards Jon and Ygritte, to clarify the ‘they’ she was referring to. Despite her lighthearted tone, it was a terrible attempt at humor. She chided herself as soon as she heard the words leave her mouth.

Tormund laughed, albeit nervously. And for the second time that night, an uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Tormund flashed a quick glance at Ygritte, and then to Jon. Sansa followed his eyes and saw Ygritte staring at her plate, face flushed red. She looked down the table to Jon. His eyes were dark, and she couldn’t quite read his expression. _Embarrassment? Regret? Anger?_ More awkward silence. Tormund cleared his throat, grabbed his beer, and took a quick sip. “Perhaps that’s a better question asked of those two.”

“Oh…” It came out as a whisper. But everyone heard. Heard the hurt and brutal acknowledgement of all the things Sansa was unaware of.

_Why did you ask Sansa? Stupid, silly girl. Never give yourself away_. 

She wasn’t sure of what to do next. Of what to say or how to act. All she knew was in that moment, a moment that seemed to stretch a lifetime, she broke. The threads that had tethered her to courtesy, to duty… to politely wipe her tears and set aside her heartbreak, to continue the evening… whatever it was that had compelled her to listen to Ygritte’s earlier words of apology - those threads that had been pulled taut, ever tight as the evening stretched on… they snapped. 

And finally she was free. Free from the bonds of duty and expectation. Free to face the truth. _It didn’t hurt this bad before_.

She glanced at the water in her hand, and then to her plate, to the food in front of her. She hadn’t eaten much. At some point, she had lost her appetite and now, nothing tasted as it should. She took a small bite of salad, fighting the tears threatening to return. Contemplating that freedom- the knowledge, the truth. Considering silently how secrets destroy.

_What else hasn’t he told you?_

“You two are liars,” Sansa whispered, looking back to Jon and Ygritte. _Why had they lied? Why had they said nothing?_

“Tell me Val, how drunk did you have to get to go along with a study sess. sex romp? Let me guess, one of you played the professor, and the other two, students,” Sansa asked in a light mocking tone. She set down her water, took another bite of salad, and then picked up her wine. She gently swirled the deep berry liquid. _Liquid courage. At this point what do you have to lose?_ Taking a long swallow, she carried on. “So… which one of you made the first move? You three must have had the hots for each other for quite some time if all it took was a few drinks for the clothes to fall off.”

Pushing away her plate, Sansa paused and then looked over to the beautiful woman with honey blonde waves. She continued to pry- her voice cold, bordering on unkind. “Who was it you wanted, Val? Ygritte or Jon?” Sansa stared hard into Val’s frosty grey eyes. O _r are they blue, like chips of crystal ice_? _Ygritte’s red hair. Val’s eyes_. “Did it live up to the fantasy?” _Is her body as beautiful as her eyes Jon?_

“Sansa, stop.” Robb said firmly, trying to get his sister to quit her goading and taunting questions.

“Robb, you knew...” Sansa spit back, turning to her brother. “…And you chose not tell me. You do not get to pick and choose when to pull the big brother act. So no, I will not stop.” She locked her blue eyes with Robb’s, eyes that mirrored her own, and glared. _Of course he would choose Jon. He will always choose Jon._ She took another long slow sip of her wine, and continued to stare. Daring him to say more.

Turning back to Ygritte, she offered a sugary sweet smile, “How many times have you and Jon fucked? Would you classify your relationship as former lovers or just good friends with an occasional side of benefits?”

“Sansa, please…” Jon asked quietly.

Sansa refused to acknowledge him. _I will not cry_.

“Sansa,” Val began to speak. Sansa looked over at the woman, interested to hear what her friend, _no Jon’s friend_ , finally had to say.

“Perhaps, it’s time to call an end to the evening.” Talisa’s voice rose above the rest. Sansa could hear the low murmurings of agreement.

“Sansa, didn’t you date one of their musicians?” Gilly asked at the same time, curious and innocent in her attempt to find a safe topic.

“Wha…what?” Sansa stuttered. Her throat went dry, and all thoughts about Jon’s lies vanished. She could feel her chest constrict and pulse increase. She tried to calm the panic and anxiety that had begun to race through her body. _Deep breaths Sansa._

“The Flayed Men. I mean, I could be confused. It’s just when Ygritte mentioned the bands, I thought I remembered something about you dating a northern rocker.” She could hear Gilly’s voice, trying to clarify her previous question. But her voice sounded far away, distant. Sansa struggled to focus as she tried to hide her growing discomfort.

_Fuck! Please Gilly… shut up._ She finished her wine, ignoring the question. _No one knows about that. I can’t think about him._

“You dated a rock musician Sans?” Arya asked, confused and trying to keep up.

“It’s nothing Arya. The tabloids are trash,” Sansa answered quickly, setting down her empty glass, hoping that would be the end of it. She desperately wanted to avoid these questions. Her head was beginning to spin. _Breathe, Sansa._

“It was their bass guitarist, Ramsey Bolton, wasn’t it Sans? Gilly’s right, I swear saw photos of you and Ramsey Bolton,” Theon offered aloud.

Sansa tried so very hard to hold it together, but the mention of his name flooded her brain with memories. His barely blue eyes and cruel, sadistic smile; _the blood, oh god, the blood_. Her stomach turned and she began to feel lightheaded. Her eyes searched for Jon. _Breathe Sansa! Focus on Jon._ Jon, with his beautiful, grey eyes; eyes that looked at her now with concern and confusion. With love. _I never told him about Ramsey._

_I’m so sorry Jon._ And then everything went black.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for reading.
> 
> In _Skeletons _, Sansa mentions Joffrey and Harry. I've decided to switch out Joffrey for Ramsey. Please know, Ramsey is strictly a plot device. There will be no rape or torture.__
> 
>   
>  _  
> _Anyways, I left you a gift basket. Grab a tomato and come throw at it me in the comments._  
> _


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is doing well and staying safe.  
> If you need a word of encouragement, or have a prayer request- let me know. 
> 
> If you are a healthcare provider- a doctor, a nurse, hospital staff- Thank you!  
> If you are working to provide essential services- Thank you! 
> 
> Each of you who is working through this pandemic are heroes.

-THEON-

Theon felt awful. Just awful.

Everything he said tonight seemed to be wrong. His words hurtful when he never intended them to pain. It was a disaster. He couldn’t think of a better term for this evening. _A nightmare_? Hmm… maybe. _A terrible, fucking nightmare_.

He never meant to reveal Jon’s threesome with Ygritte and Val to an unsuspecting Sansa; he would swear on all the gods he would never have made those comments to her if he had known she didn’t know. Of course his teasing was inappropriate. It always is, and comedy is at its best when propriety and care are tossed aside… _surely_ his friends would understand his words were an innocent jest? Someone in this group has to be responsible for the fun, for the good times. The Starks, as much as he loves them all, need him as much as he needs them. Laughter and mockery are as essential to life as love and kindness. _Why the fuck didn’t you tell her Jon?_ Of all the people in the world, Sansa would be the last person Theon wished to hurt with his words.

And now Sansa had fainted. At the dinner table. If not for Gendry sitting next to her, she likely would have fallen out of her chair. In the blink of an eye, he had managed to grasp her arm, and keep her upright in her seat. Theon was impressed at how quickly Gendry reacted; he watched him shift his body, holding her until she regained consciousness.

Theon felt Robb immediately push away from the table, and go over to his sister. He watched his friend instruct Gendry to carefully shift Sansa out of her seat and move her so she could lay flat on the floor. It took nearly sixty seconds for Sansa to blink her eyes open; she looked dazed, momentarily confused as to why she was no longer in her chair at the table. Robb was calmly trying to determine why she fainted, his medical instincts kicking in. He gently grasped her wrist to take her pulse. Staring at his watch and counting the beats. Quietly probing. Seeking answers. “Deep breaths… Do you still feel lightheaded, dizzy? Any nausea? Could it have been the wine?” 

Theon noticed Gendry move aside so Jon could join them. He could see Sansa shrugging away Robb’s concern. Answering his questions in the negative. “I’m fine Robb, please… you don’t need to fuss.” She sounded embarrassed, and would not look at any of her guests.

Gently pushing away Jon, and waving off Robb, Sansa sat up and returned to her seat. Theon didn’t think she looked ‘fine’. Her face was pale, and her breaths slow and deep. Robb handed Sansa her glass of water and motioned for her to drink. She glared weakly at her brother hoping he would return to his chair and leave her be. He ignored her. “I think you should lay down… rest,” Robb advised in a low voice. Sansa sighed, and shifted her gaze to the floor.

“Talisa’s..." Sansa started to speak, her voice soft. She sighed, "I don’t think I’m up for any more this evening." Sansa turned to Jon. Her eyes began to water, her voice wobbled. “I … I’m so sorry everyone. I know tonight didn’t go as we expected. Please, feel free to finish dinner. There is lemon cake and blueberry pie in the kitchen. You are welcome to take home a slice. Leftovers too.” She stood up slowly, and then made her way towards the comfort of her bedroom. Her brother and Jon followed behind her.

Theon could hear the bedroom door close, and a few minutes later, the muffled sounds of water running in the bath. He saw Robb and Jon exit and shut the door, and then, exchange a long look between them. Neither speaking a word out loud.

He glanced back to Jeyne. “I should have told them to leave…” she said quietly. “…Excuse me.” She stood and walked down the hall towards Robb and Jon. She leaned in to whisper something to Jon as Robb made his way back to his seat. Theon doubted Sansa wanted to be disturbed, but maybe there was something Jeyne could say or do that might comfort their friend.

The evening was coming to a fast end, but Theon’s mind was swirling. S _hould I go talk to Sansa when Jeyne returns? Apologize for my words? Ask if there is anything I can do?_ Was it solely his words that had caused her to faint? Was it the conversation? Her emotions running high? Or was Robb right and the wine had been the culprit? He stabbed at his chicken, pondering his role in tonight’s disaster. _Should I say something to Jon?_

“I… uh… Sansa’s right. Finish your dinner guys, and then everyone should head home.” Jon’s graveled voice interrupted Theon’s thoughts. He looked up to see Jeyne had disappeared into the bedroom.

Theon watched Jon fumble with his napkin, staring at his partially eaten plate of food. He let out a deep sigh, resigned and tired. Tossing the cloth over his plate, he decided not to sit, and instead grabbed his glass. Jon walked to the cabinet where Theon had earlier found Sansa’s wine, shuffled through a few bottles, and settled on a whiskey.

Bottle in one hand, his glass in the other hand, Jon’s steps led him not to the bedroom, but rather, to the balcony.

The sun had set and the city lights twinkled, gold against the hazy dusk of twilight. The weather app had predicted a storm to move in, rain showers expected after midnight. Theon could smell the air, crisp and chilled, when Jon opened the door. Under different circumstances, Robb and Theon or any one of the other guests would have joined him. Drink in hand. Watching the dark clouds build on the horizon. But now? Jon’s desire was clear. He did not wish for friends or well- intentioned advice or a smile of sympathy. Jon was done with the skeletons that had joined the evening. Secrets that he had thrown away to be forgotten in time. He closed the door behind him, shutting out everyone and everything inside. Seeking solace in the quiet, still, cold night with only his thoughts for company.

Theon wondered what came next...

_For Jon and Sansa?_

What does one do when confronted with the remains of the past?

_Truth_ rarely stayed in the shadows. There was very little _honor_ in lies.

_Why didn't you tell her Jon?_ Theon shook his head... Jon’s reasons were his own. _Will you listen Sansa?_

He hoped there would be a day when past hurts could be forgiven- pain healed by _love_ and _time_. A day when the skeletons, the secrets, the wreckage of tonight might finally be buried ... in a grave- six feet deep.

He scanned the table. No one said anything. There was no need to. It didn’t take long for dinner to finish. And soon, everyone was gone.

* * *

-AUTHORS NOTE-

The.Dinner.Party.from.Hell is finally over!!

(thank you SainTalia for that phrase-it was perfect)

As I’ve said previously, _Six Feet Under_ was inspired by Kit_Kat21’s wonderful fic, _Skeletons_. My goal was to write a story about the ‘infamous’ dinner party. Yes, _Six Feet Under_ differs in style and tone from _Skeletons_ , but I hope I was able to write a version of events that could co-exist in the space between Kit_Kat21’s original work and sequel. Chapters 1-5 were originally written as a long one-shot fic. I decided to post the first part on its own as chapter one, hoping Kit_Kat21 would not be uncomfortable with my expanding upon her work. So, thank you again Kit_Kat21 for giving your blessing. I would not have continued this story without your encouraging words.

Now let’s talk about where this story goes from here. _Ghost of You_ (Kit_Kat21’s sequel to _Skeletons_ ) is still a WIP. It was updated within the past year, and just like every other story Kit_Kat21 writes, it is also very, very good. Because it is not yet finished, I do not feel comfortable adding to that story. Kit_Kat21 may soon find inspiration and want to continue writing (I hope she does). I do not want to write anything that complicates or undermines her fic. I also don’t want to be accused of plagiarism or stealing.

The next set of chapters will focus on the fall-out from the dinner party. _Six Feet Under_ going forward will tack away from _Ghost of You_. There will be some minor background that remains the same, but overall, please remember, this is a different story.

  1. I love House Stark. My love for the different members of House Stark varies with the day and my mood and the fic, but I always want all of them to succeed and be happy. Writing them differently hurts my Stark loving heart.
  2. My OTP is Jonsa- I love Jon and Sansa equally. There will be resolution.
  3. All the characters are flawed, so I hope readers will keep an open mind as this story progresses.



Thank you for the feedback- your comments have encouraged me to reconsider various parts of the story. Sometimes scenes or dialogue make sense in my brain, but fail to translate once written. So your thoughts do matter. If you stick with this story, please continue to comment. Our discussions after each chapter are helpful and fun.

And lastly, if the North can grow raspberries and blackberries, they can grow blueberries. I haven’t seen this mentioned elsewhere- if I’m wrong, let me know. I’ve decided that Jon Snow is a blueberry sort of guy. While he loves all things blueberry, blueberry tarts are his favorite dessert. Agree or disagree. But, in my humble food opinion, Lemon & Blueberry really is one the better fruit/flavor pairings. Just like Jon and Sansa, lol.

disclaimer: I am not a medical professional. I googled ‘fainting’ and read a few articles. I’m happy to rewrite that bit if a reader can suggest a better way to write it. 

Again, thank you for reading! This was my first fan-fic, and everyone who read and commented, you are the best! If you have any questions/opinions, hit the comments. I try to reply to most before posting the next chapter. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed my version of the dinner party.

-Salamander

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

-JON-

Sun. 5:10pm from Sansa 

“ _I’m not lost, or kidnapped, or dead. I just need some time and space. I’m sorry._ ”

Jon sat on the sofa staring at his phone. The message was clear - she had left. And she hadn’t deemed it necessary to tell him where she had gone. Or when she planned to return.

_She wouldn’t just leave and not come home…?_

* * *

It was midday when he returned from his run. After a quick shower, Jon was determined they would talk. She had unlocked the bedroom door, and he hoped that signaled she was finally ready to hear his apologies.

He imagined he might find her reading on the sofa. Or perhaps outside on the balcony, enjoying the cool breeze and afternoon sun. After several years in King’s Landing, Sansa had moved home with a deeper love for the North. _“The air is so sticky Jon. And there is so much noise, and the people, well… everyone is too busy trying to get ahead to appreciate anything around them. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss the quiet. How much I’d miss the North,”_ he remembered her words describing the largest city in Westeros during one of their weekend walks through the woods near their home.

That was how they spent their Sundays together. Late morning walks through the Wolfswood Nature Preserve, lunch at _Nan’s_ , one of their favorite cafes in Wintertown city center, and then back to the quiet of their home. He would settle in at the table with his laptop and books, and prepare for his coming week of classes, always with a mug of strong, black coffee. Sansa would disappear into the kitchen, and soon the air would smell of warm butter and sugar. Of cinnamon and vanilla and nutmeg. Baking was a Sunday tradition- a hobby she shared with her mother. While she waited for her cake, tarts, or whatever she had chosen that week to bake in the oven, she’d curl up on the sofa and wrap herself in a blanket. She, and Jane Austen, and a cup of Lady Grey. It was quite domestic, and perhaps boring, but he loved that they had slipped into such an easy routine. Today should not have been any different.

_Sansa.Coffee.Talk._ Jon wasn’t quite sure how to organize his mental checklist, but he was certain of his mission. He walked with purpose to the kitchen, prepared to make coffee, and lunch, if she wanted. But just like the bedroom, he found the kitchen empty. The main room. Empty. He checked the balcony though he could clearly see through the windows that she wasn’t outside either. He wandered back through the flat, and opened every door, only to be greeted by the quiet hum of a silent, empty home, devoid of all life but his own. He swallowed his disappointment. S _he’s gone out. A walk in the park. I went for a run._

The minutes ticked by, and one hour became three. His optimism and hope began to fade, and Jon knew that she hadn’t just gone out for a walk.

_Of course she’s not here. You already know this Jon. The evidence is clear_. He had seen it earlier, but had been quick to dismiss it. A missing toothbrush. The phone charger no longer plugged into the wall on her side of their bed, and her laptop, gone. He decided to check the lock box - only to find one passport where there should be two. 

When exactly _had_ she left? He had gone to check on her when he woke this morning. As it had been the night before, the door was still shut and the lock turned. _I_ _knocked._ _I asked if we could talk. I’m positive I heard her moving around the room. Was she waiting for me to leave? If I hadn’t gone for a run, could I have convinced her stay? To hear me out?_

He had given her space; time with her thoughts. _I did as she asked._ He understood her anger, and knew she was terribly hurt. _I want to apologize, tell her I made a mistake. I need to fix this._

But she wasn’t there. She wasn’t anywhere. At least not anywhere near him.

* * *

Jon gently massaged his temples, trying to push away the headache that had been bothering him for hours. _Seven hells… how am I still hung-over?_ His attempts to help his body recover with aspirin and a run, and then several mugs of black coffee, had all been in vain. There was no quick cure - he just had to suffer and let his body heal in time. He let out a deep yawn, powered down his laptop and straightened the clutter, closing his books and tidying his notes. He had tried to study for hours, but he couldn’t focus, his thoughts so often fluttering to Sansa… _I need sleep._

He reached for his phone and stared again at the message she had sent. One single text. And nothing since.

The decision had been swift - he would no longer honor her request for time and space. He could not sit idle and wait. He needed to hear her voice, he needed to know she was safe. So he called. At the top of every hour.

Tapping the screen, he dialed her number… _c’mon Sansa, pick up love._ He glanced at the wall _, shit, it’s already nine o’clock._ With a fifty minute commute to class in the morning Jon knew he needed to go to bed; sleep wouldn’t fix things between him and Sansa, but his body and mind needed rest. _I’ll stay up all night if she answers her phone._

…She didn’t.

His call went straight to voicemail.

Knowing this was his final attempt for the evening, he sighed and spoke his wish:

“Sansa. Please call me. I got your text. I need to talk you love. I’m sorry. About everything. I messed up. I should have told you. Please… just call me back. I love you.”

He ended the call, set down his phone and waited… hoping to see the screen light back up. 

_Has she spoken to Robb? Arya? Or called her parents?_ Would they know where she’s gone? Should _I_ call them? “ _We agreed to not involve them in our arguments Jon,”_ he could hear her voice _._ But this wasn’t exactly an argument. She had left. And had given no information about where she had gone. Of course he was concerned. She could have at least left him a note.

What _would_ he say to Robb, to Arya? To Catelyn and Ned?

* * *

Disagreements, stupid decisions, hurt feelings - these plights happen to every couple, no relationship is perfect. Eventually, someone will do or say something stupid. _That was me._ But wouldn't two people who claim to love each other be willing to try? Try to work through their problems? _Why would you just leave Sansa?_

Jon rolled over, sheets twisted and blankets bunched. Tossing and turning, struggling to get comfortable. His head still hurt, and his thoughts wouldn’t quiet. _Which is better… sleeping on the couch? Or sleeping in an empty bed?_ He smashed his pillow several times, trying to find that perfect fluff. _At least on the couch, I knew where she was._

His mind wouldn’t stop replaying the events of the past two days. _How did this all get so fucked up?_

“Well, you could have told me Jon,” Sansa replied as if she were there. _You’re right. I should have. I should have been completely upfront._

“Did you truly think that Theon would forget? Really Jon?” _I know, I know…_ “Robb and Arya - did they know?” … _Yes. But,_ _I never meant to tell them. I slipped and made a stupid comment._

“You had months, nearly a year, to say something! But you didn’t.” He could imagine her eyes, wet with tears. Her voice, hurt and accusatory. _I fucked up_.

“You never said. To find out in front of our friends… it was humiliating.” _I’m so sorry, Sans. I swear the only people who would have known were Robb, Theon, and Arya. Well, and Ygritte and Val of course. I doubt they ever said anything._

He could hear the crickets, chirping loudly in the fields near their home. They were often joined by the cicadas and the night owls, and together, they all would play the evening song of the North. Most nights he found the alternating hums and buzz of their mating calls a pleasant path to sleep. At this moment though, with sleep eluding him, his head heavy with tension and his body restless, he wished they would all just die. In the most painful, tortured way a cricket or a cicada could die.

_Why did you faint Sans?_ He swore he could hear her sigh. “You saw me drink three glasses of wine on a near empty stomach.” _You… you seemed distressed when Gilly and Theon mentioned that musician._

“I was distressed about your secrets. Besides, Ramsay Bolton is not important. You don’t get to deflect Jon.” _I’m not trying too. I’m trying to understand what the fuck happened last night. How we went from hosting a dinner party with our family and friends to me waking up on the couch with a whale of a hangover. And you disappearing, without a word._

The crickets and their friends seemed louder than normal. As if they knew they could refuse him sleep. Torture his mind. As if they were trying to punish him. 

_We should have talked last night love._ _Once everyone went home._ “I was tired and upset… I didn’t want to talk.”

_Theon texted me earlier. Robb too. Theon, an apology. Robb - he wanted to know how you were feeling, and if I was still alive. I texted him back. Told him I assumed you were okay. That you still weren’t speaking to me, and had left the house while I was in the shower. That was before I knew you actually left when I went for a run. Before I realized you didn’t intend to return._

“Don’t be mad at Theon Jon. He didn’t mean any harm.”

_I love you._ “I know… but, I - I just can't think straight. I'm hurt, angry. And I can't trust you. You lied to me.”

_We can’t fix this if you’re not here. I want to fix this._

“You should have told me Jon."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I wasn't originally intending to return to Jon's pov for several more chapters, but this felt like the right moment to explore some of Jon's thoughts about the dinner party. And I thought he deserved a full chapter. 
> 
> Also, should I update any of the tags?


	8. Chapter 8

-CATELYN-

_Check the oven, and I need to make the salad._

With most of her children grown and out of the house, Catelyn’s decision to move ‘family dinner’ to Monday nights had been a stroke of brilliance. She didn’t like to impose on her kid’s weekends, plus she knew everyone suffered the Monday blues. Dinner wasn’t mandatory, nor was it a grand occasion; it was just an open invitation, and whoever could join came. Her children were busy, of course, with their studies and activities, but she was pleased that they so easily added family dinner to their weekly routines. Having her kids stop by the house for a meal and family conversation… well, it was no surprise Monday evenings quickly became her favorite night of the week. She would never tire of sharing dinner with Ned and the kids, and she hoped her family felt the same.

Catelyn passed through the archway into the kitchen and came to an abrupt halt, quietly observing the scene. She softened her steps, moving towards the young woman with deep brown curls.

“Arya Stark, don’t you dare dip your spoon into that bowl!” she warned sternly. She watched her daughter freeze, spoon hovering just above the large bowl of chocolate frosting sitting on the counter, clearly unaware she might be caught red-handed. “I’m not finished with it yet you little thief” Catelyn scolded.

“One spoonful, just one. I feel weak…” Arya let out a long, dramatic sigh. “I- I think my glucose is low.”

Catelyn rolled her eyes, shook her head, and tried to keep the amusement out of her voice, “You do not have low glucose.”

“I could…” Arya huffed, putting down her spoon. “What are you making?”

Walking to the island, she nudged her daughter aside. “Tomorrow is Jory’s birthday… I thought I’d bake cupcakes and drop them by the office.” She pushed the bowl of frosting further away from Arya’s greedy gaze. _“_ The bowl is yours when I’m finished.”

Catelyn turned to open the oven. Peering in, she saw the cupcakes looked full and puffy, but not quite golden. _Almost done..._ _four minutes then I can pull them out to cool._ “It appears that most of your siblings are not coming to dinner tonight. Robb, Sansa, and Jon all texted to say they couldn’t be here. Bran is at the library… Rickon, he should be home soon. Is Gendry coming?” Catelyn added additional minutes to the timer, closed the door, then turned back to her daughter. Only to find her youngest girl licking a rather large spoonful of frosting, unable to answer. Catelyn sighed in exasperation, then frowned at her daughter’s sheepish smirk, “Arya, do _not_ put that spoon back into the bowl.”

“Anyways, I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to ask you about Saturday evening…” 

“What do you mean?” Arya dropped her now clean spoon in the sink, and moved to the fridge to pull out a can of soda.

“How was the dinner party? …I know Sansa was nervous cooking for that many guests. Did the evening go well?” Catelyn found herself worrying that she’d not yet heard from her other daughter.

She knew Sansa was excited to host her first dinner party in her and Jon’s new home, and that she had spent several days preparing for the evening. She had asked last week for Catelyn’s recipes, wanting to make her sibling’s favorite foods. Catelyn didn’t think she needed her recipes, but she understood why Sansa wanted everything to be just right. So when she’d received Sansa’s text mentioning a last minute trip, Catelyn was surprised. _Did she mention a work trip and I forgot?_ She began to suspect something was wrong when Rickon mentioned Sunday afternoon he’d gone with his sister to the airport, and that Sansa had given him permission to use her car while she was gone. She became increasingly concerned when Sansa didn’t return her calls from last night or this morning.

“Did something happen? Call it a mother’s intuition, but since I wasn’t there and you were, I would like for you to share what you know.”

Arya scrunched her face, looking unhappy with the request. “You should ask Sansa. Or Jon. I really don’t think…” she trailed off as she cracked open the can, took a large gulp, and cleverly tried to sidestep her mother’s questions.

“Arya…” Catelyn tried again. “What happened?”

“Alright, fine!” Arya muttered. “Theon said something to Sansa. About Jon. And I guess Sans wasn’t aware. Anyway, she became upset and needed some privacy. When she returned, I thought everything was mostly fine, that she and Jon would talk when everyone was gone. But dinner went… not well. And then Sansa fainted.” Arya gave her account of the evening in one very long, rushed breath. She took another gulp of soda, peering nervously over the can.

Beep. Beep. Beep. _Sansa fainted?_

“Your sister fainted?! Was she okay? _Is she okay?_ Why- why did she faint?” Catelyn demanded, voice rising with a mother’s worry. She could hear the oven behind her, the timer having reached zero, but she didn’t move to turn it off.

Beep. Beep. Beep. _How am I just now hearing about this?_

“Mum, the oven. Your cupcakes.”

“Arya, answer my questions please.”

Arya sighed, pushed past her mother, set down her soda, and picked up the tea towels on the counter next to the stove. Opening the oven, she pulled out the two trays of cupcakes, deposited them on the stove, closed the door, and then reached over to shut off the beeping timer. “I.… uh, figured you would have talked to Sansa or Robb and heard.”

“I haven’t talked to Robb or Sansa since Saturday.” _My child faints, and not one of my children who was there thinks to tell me?_ “Why did she faint?”

“Don’t know, Robb’s the doctor. But… she was upset, and I don’t think she ate much. Plus she drank several glasses of wine sort of quickly.”

“Robb helped her?”

“Yeah, Robb checked her over and made sure she was okay. He told her to go rest, and then everyone went home.”

Catelyn moved towards the refrigerator, trying to process everything Arya had just told her. _Sansa became upset. Something to do with Jon._ She started pulling ingredients for the salad, her hands moving without any thought for the task at hand - lettuce, tomato, olives, onion, peppers. _She fainted at dinner._ Placing her items on the island, she motioned for her daughter to pull a knife from the block and pass it to her. Catelyn grabbed a large bowl from shelf below, and set to slicing the tomato and onion. “Take the cupcakes out of their tins Arya, and put them on the cooling rack.” _Rickon went to the airport with Sansa. And she hasn’t answered or returned my calls._

_What caused her to be so upset? To leave?_ “What did Theon say? To upset her?” She glanced up to see Arya focus her attention on the cupcakes, unwilling to meet her gaze. Catelyn paused her knife, “Arya, I’m trying to understand why three of my children conveniently decided to skip tonight’s family dinner.”

Another sigh. Another reluctant answer. “Jon slept with Ygritte and Val, and Sansa didn’t know.”

Catelyn blinked, unsure of what to say _. Those girls he knows from school? Oh, Jon – you didn’t…what does she mean by ‘and’?_

“When?” _He wouldn’t cheat. Ned and I raised him better than that._

Arya shrugged, still concentrating on her task. “I don’t know Mum… it’s not as if I asked for details. It was before they started dating.”

“But Theon knew? And you knew?”

Arya finally turned to face her. She could see her daughter’s discomfort, her dark, grey eyes tinged with guilt, perhaps regret. “… and Robb.”

Catelyn heard the heavy thud of footsteps behind her. “Gendry!” Arya exclaimed with a bright smile, happy to have a distraction from her mother’s questions.

“Good evening Gendry,” Catelyn turned around to welcome the young man who had wandered into the kitchen, most likely following the smells of the lasagna warming in the oven, and the freshly baked cupcakes on the counter. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and moved towards Arya to do the same.

“And Jon never told Sansa?” she turned back to her daughter, pressing for more answers. Catelyn noticed Gendry’s eyes go wide.

Arya shook her head no.

Catelyn listened carefully as Arya continued to answer her questions, giving her account of the evening. _What a mess._ Her heart ached for her daughter, for Jon. She understood – _Sansa’s angry and heartbroken, I’m sure Jon is upset, brooding. Did they talk? And Robb and Arya – neither of them tried to talk to Sansa or Jon? ...gods, what were they thinking? What a terrible, disappointing mess._

* * *

-EDDARD-

Half the table was empty. He wasn’t sure which he preferred, the quiet conversation or the usual noisy chatter. Sitting all his children and their friends around the dinner table was typically a boisterous affair. It could be maddening at times- the noise, the multiple conversations, the desire to hear everything each of his children had to say. But Ned loved his family, and he wouldn’t trade Catelyn’s family dinners for world peace.

Robb and Jon always talked about their studies, their professors, current events. They are both so serious, _too serious if I’m being honest_. Perhaps when they finished their schooling, they would find the time to relax and just enjoy the latest gossip of their favorite football club. Ned was so proud of his sons, he was proud of all of his children, but his two eldest boys were maturing into fine young men. Robb had chosen medicine, and Jon was just a few months shy of completing his law degree; each boy on the path to a future and career he could be proud of.

Unlike Robb and Jon, his daughters were less restrained and far more charming. Arya and Sansa were complete opposites, like night and day. But they could both talk a mile a minute, and befriend anyone around them. Sansa- she was so much her mother in looks and temperament, and yet, she was still his little girl, her laugh never failing to bring a smile to his face. Arya reminded Ned of Jon’s mother, the cousin he had loved like a sister. She was boundless energy, willful and independent, always looking for a new adventure. He was surprised she hadn’t insisted on a gap year before starting university.

His thoughts finally wandered to his youngest two sons. Bran, once a mischievous little boy, had grown into a thoughtful young man. He was smart, too smart, though not nearly as serious as his older brothers, and far less talkative than his sisters. He had an uncanny ability to hear everything, all the voices, the different threads of conversations, and make sense of it, amusing Ned when he popped in and out of the chatter. His was a steady voice, wise even. Rickon, his wild child, took full advantage of being the youngest in the family. Ned had no idea what Ric’s future might hold- of all his children, his love of nature and outdoor pursuits was strongest. He doubted his son would choose medicine or law or engineering. He sometimes wondered if his youngest would even attend university. Ned smiled at Cat’s reaction to such a thought. Of course Rickon would attend university. _A future Bear Grylls…_

A quiet table meant there was a single conversation. Tonight, no voice was muddled. No one talked over each other, and everyone could hear what was said. Even one’s thoughts seemed loud. And for some reason, everyone seemed to be having a lot of thoughts.

“Where is everyone?” Ned asked. He hadn’t had much time to catch up with the kids before Cat had dinner on the table. There had been a late afternoon meeting, and he arrived home not long after Rickon. His son was annoyed with him but he understood why. He and Cat had informed Ric that despite what Sansa said, no, he could not drive her car. _What was Sansa thinking?_ Rickon was a good driver, but having qualified for his license only a few months past, he was still young and too inexperienced.

“Robb texted- Talisa was called into work and he wanted the night to study. Jon- I guess there was an accident on the Kings Road and he was tired. Sansa is out of town. And Bran is at the library.” Cat explained. The look his wife gave him told him there was more to discuss, but now wasn’t the time.

“Ric- how was practice?” Ned turned his attention to his teenage boy. He hated how quickly time had passed. Nearly all his children were grown. And his youngest only had a few years more at home. And soon he too would be off, building a new life. This house, which had been full of children, his own and their friends, for so many years, would be quiet. It would be just him and Cat. _There may be grandchildren. Robb is getting married. And Jon and Sansa – well, Sansa has always wanted a family, and Jon will do anything to make her happy._

“Good. Coach says that I’m close to making the relay team,” Ric answered, swallowing a forkful of lasagna.

“That’s fantastic, which stroke?” Ned smiled. Ric was tall and lanky, and had worked hard this past year building the necessary muscle to increase his strength and speed.

“Freestyle, maybe backstroke.” Rickon replied, this time around a mouthful of garlic bread.

“As soon as the schedule comes out give it to Jory so he can update my calendar.” Ned saw Ric nod at his instruction.

“How was Sansa’s dinner the other night? She stopped by to get your mother’s recipes. I was jealous I wasn’t invited,” Ned asked, turning to his daughter. _She’s been rather quiet tonight._

He noticed everyone pause at his question. Arya and Gendry shared a look, then she glanced quickly to his wife, discomfort plainly written across her face. _Huh…_

“What? Did I say something wrong? Did she burn all her food?” he joked. “Is that why she had to leave town?”

“Uh, the evening… it didn’t go well.” it was Gendry who answered. “Theon brought up a matter with Sansa that Jon hadn’t shared with her,” he explained. “I- I guess none of us quite grasped how upset she was. If we had… I should have checked on her. But we… well, we were poor guests, and probably should have left. Given Sansa and Jon the opportunity to talk in private.”

Ned was floored. He looked to Cat, to Arya, trying to understand what Gendry was trying to say. _What could Theon possibly say to Sansa that would ruin her evening? She and Jon needed to talk in private? Rickon said it was just a quick trip out of town… was it not for work?_

“Jon fucked up, and Sansa needed space,” Rickon added. He was carefully separating his salad, picking out only the vegetables he liked.

_You didn’t say that last night, son._

“Rickon Stark! Watch your language,” Ned heard Cat scold the boy.

“Well, he did.” Arya agreed. She glanced across the table at her brother, “Sansa told you what happened?”

“Of course she did…” Rickon retorted. “I mean, she didn’t give me the play-by-play, but she said the evening was a disaster and she needed to leave so she could think clearly.” He took another bite of bread, “…She was kind of angry with you and Robb too”

Arya sighed. “That’s fair… though in my defense, I was just trying to avoid getting in the middle of their fight. Why didn’t they just ask us to leave? Idiots.”

_A disaster?_ Ned wasn’t sure what Sansa might consider a disaster. _What did Jon do_? Ned could think of one thing. _No, not possible._ _You did not cheat on my daughter Jon._ “Arya…” Ned cleared his throat, looking for some clarification.

“Dad… please, I’ve already told Mum everything that happened.” He could hear the plea in his daughter’s voice, desperate to not answer all the questions that were racing through his mind. “Robb, Sansa, Jon… bloody cowards skipping dinner tonight,” she swore in a low voice.

“Sweetling, I’m sorry that your siblings aren’t here, but-”

“Ned, we’ll talk later,” Cat interrupted. Her voice was firm, and once again, her eyes said more than her words.

_We’ll talk later? … Seven hells, what the fuck happened? You swore to me Jon._

The table went silent, everyone lost to their own thoughts. Ned could hear the front door open, then close. _That must be Bran._ His son joined the rest of the family in the dining room and everyone exchanged hellos. He watched as Bran took his seat, and served himself a portion of lasagna, salad, and bread.

“Do I smell cake?” Bran inquired, hopeful that there was something sweet to be found.

“Mum made cupcakes for Jory’s birthday. I’m not sure we get any,” Arya teased her brother.

Bran settled in, working on his plate of food. “I’ll get a cupcake. I’m Mum’s favorite. I always get a cupcake,” he replied with a wink. Looking around the table, he noted the empty seats. “So, what did I miss?”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this chapter was a bit long, but I didn't see the need to stretch out this dinner. Again, thanks for stopping by to read. Have a good week!


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